


Evil Urges (Beta)

by vrus28



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: Flanjoy, Jart - Freeform, Lasswilliger, M/M, Multi, bort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vrus28/pseuds/vrus28
Summary: After Jack Lassen, Bart's former teacher, got fired, he began a new job as jailer.In Springfield's prison he meets Sideshow Bob who hates the Simpson Kid just as much as he do.None of them managed to kill Bart, but will they be successful if they're teaming up together?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ((Hello everybody! This is my first FF ever so please bear with me.  
> I know I could have done better but tbh this is an experiment for myself and I just want to try things out.  
> Since this is a Beta I might come back to this some other time change / fix things.
> 
> About the ships: I'm planing eventually a big thing with Ned and Lovejoy in addition but this will come pretty late in the story so If you're only here for Flanjoy you migth get disappointed. The main Ship is Bort. 
> 
> Don’t be shy to leave your opinion here! I’m looking forward for critic and help from you guys! So if there is anything unclear please tell me.  
> Have fun reading! ))

„Alright! Lights Out!”

With a deep voice followed by some harsh hitting from a baton on the prison bars,  
Jack Lassen gave the command for the rest period in prison of Springfield.  
Surprisingly it remained quiet in the prison block.  
It was Jack's first day as a prison jailer and the inmates rather ignored him.  
Except for a few listless and annoyed looks, Jack didn't reap anything.  
They thought at some point the europhy and the strength in his voice would soon fade away.  
All lights in the cells went out. Except for one.  
The former teacher, now a prison guard, turned to the cell which the light came out from.  
„Hey! Lights Out!” You too ,Freak!”  
Jack admonishingly glared at the red-haired inmate, who also ignored him.  
With crossed arms and a suppressed growling sound, the inmates attention was focused on something else. Jack starred at the readhead for another moment,  
still waiting for them to turn around to face him.

But when there was no reaction, Jack followed his gaze to the wall where a picture of a boy hung that he knew only too well. Bart Simpson.  
Toy arrows were around all over the photograph of the boy, some on the wall, most on his face. Jack could tell from the look in his eyes that the red haired would only be too pleased to replace the toy arrows with real ones.  
It wasn’t hard to tell that this guy hated the boy.  
„You hate him too?“  
Finally Jack got the attention he wanted when the inmate turned to him.  
„With every fiber of what is left of my ragged soul.”

A grin spread across Jack's lips. What a coincidence. What a hell of a wonderful coincidence.  
Jack leaned closer and clutched the cold steel with one hand.  
„We should team up, I can get you out of here.“  
For Bob who was once again in prison for attempted murder this offer was truly surprising, and welcoming.

Only now, Bob clearly interested and keen eared , started to survey his opposite.  
Jack had to be a new Cop since Bob never saw him around.  
His hair had a nice hazel color just as his cold eyes.  
He had prominent cheekbones, his glance were sharp as a knife.  
A scar graced his right cheek. Honestly, this man looked anything but a cop.  
He looked rather like one of them, a criminal.  
“A partner? Intriguing! Who gets to gut him like a little pot-bellied Salmon?”  
Bob’s voice grew suddenly passionate and with a murderous intent.  
He talked about gutting and tormenting the life out of a boy, something that rolled trippingly off his tongue as if it would be daily routine.

Jack wasn’t surprised by this reaction, on the contrary.  
His lips formed a grin again as they apparently shared the same burning passion to end a boy’s life as painfully as possible.

„I assume we take turns?“ 

Wrinkling his nose, Bob crossed his arms again and turned away from Jack,  
giving him the cold shoulder.  


„No deal.“  


Bob's answer caught Jack off guard.  
He watched the back of Bob in surprise before his eyes darken again.  
Was this man out of his mind? How could this ungrateful wretch just refuse this deal?  
He’s never going get a chance like this again!  
This was practically a ticket out of prison for nothing! And he refused!  
It almost felt like an insult to Jack.  
The former teacher let go of the bar and took a step back into the dark hallway.  
Half of his face was casted by shadow, the other still illuminated by Bob's cell.  
His eyes fixed the redhead with sharpness and condescension.  
„Fine then, stay in this filth hole until you rot.“  
Bob cursed himself in thoughts the moment Jack turned away from his cell and continued to walk up the hallway.  


_  
_

_Damn it!  
_

That would have been his chance to get out of here  
and conduct his long-awaited revenge on Bart.  
Sometimes he cursed his passion that made him jump right to the gun.  


_  
_

_Whatever.  
_

He did not need that stuck up cop to get Bart, neither did he need a partner in crime!  
As he has done more than once in the past, it will be an easy game to break out of prison.  
Bob hadn't a single doubt.  
The Cops in Springfield were stupid enough to be fooled by him. He simply could wrap those donut eating pigs around his finger whenever he pleased.  
Bob could convince them over and over again how much Springfield needed him, whether as Mayor or as test objects for some genetic experiments.  
He would do anything in order to turn his diabolical plan of revenge into action.  
It was only a matter of time until he’d find a way to freedom once again.

 

A few days passed and a strange tension started to spread over the prison of Springfield that did not exist before. The inmates were more strained than usual and it all must have something to do with this Jack Lassen.

At the prison yard, the inmates gathered together for some fresh air.  
Most of them were playing any kind of sports, for one: to keep their body fit, for the other: to win important treasures like cigarettes or any other objects they can trade afterwards for something else.  
But nowdays it was almost impossible to make any trades thanks to Jack. 

Bob who sat on a bench usually joined the sport activities or doing some aerobics to stretch his body from the pain of lying for hours on the cot in his cell.  
But this time something kept him from doing so; he just sat there and watched the match.  
His thoughts drifted away and the image of the game infront of him started to blur.

With each day that had passed ,Bob was more and more tempted to break out.  
Either in a tactic way or by fleeing.  
But simply to escape seemed harder than expected.  
That damn Lassen had kept an eye on Bob. No matter how many times Bob found a chance to flee, Jack got in his way.  
He couldn’t stand him.

Usually the prison police were just as useless as the ones from the police department.  
They didn’t really care what the inmates were up to.  
They didn’t care if anyone were dealing or consuming contrabands.  
The cops loved to oversee it all and mostly just played a boring card game in some corner.  
The only motivation for them to get up was whenever some of the inmates started a fight or an insinuation of fleeing.  
Yes, clearly they weren’t much interested in their jobs at all. Each day trying to find a new way of getting round of responsibility only to live an easy job and getting back home quickly.

Not Jack.

Jack, it seemed, was born for the role of a jailer.  
He watched like a hawk and took every opportunity to make the inmate's life hell.  
He was harsh, very assertive.  
Clearly an egocentric character.  
"Don't forget: Everything must have it's order and an system."  
You could tell he was a former teacher.  
If it were up to him, he would probably still distribute grades for behavior.  
In addition of the new strict measures, many benefits the inmates had before,  
were lost trhough him.  
They had to beg for everything and say yes and amen every time.  
Ifs and buts did not exist anymore.  
Yes, Jack was rough. The type of person who only gives you one chance to leave a good impression during the first meeting. One chance to determine any further actions of him towards you.  
And Bob fucked up his chance. 

“First week as a cop and this damn Lassen thinks he’s the king of the jungle.”  
Snake, his long termed cellmate, scoffed, walking all soaked from the basketball match towards Bob. Speaking of the devil. Jack seemed to be the main topic of conversations.

Bob didn’t answer. He watched Snake throwing the wet towel over his shoulder, cracking his neck and pulling his brown hair out of his face.

“So, how do you feel about this new guy Lassen?"

“He is different.”

Snake groaned in response of Bob’s short answer.  
“Yes. He’s different than the other cops here. Do you think he will make any further trouble?” Snake pushed on.  
Sometimes it was hard to reach Bob, even they were friends for a long time now.  
"Hm."  
Bob had cupped his hand on the chin, looking back at the match again.

"Maybe we should get rid of Lassen? Just to stop the infection spreading."  
Snake whispered, standing now right before him.  
It was true.  
Lassen indeed was a thorn in the flesh. But since he didn’t manage yet to break out,  
he also was a ticket to get out of here.  
"We should’t rush anything. Let’s wait a little longer and observe how the situation will develope. Maybe he wants to assert himself as a cop. After that he probably won't bother us anymore." Bob convinced Snake though he exactly knew that this wasn’t the truth. 

Snake remain a little longer at Bob’s side, as if he waited for something that the red haired haven't gave him yet.

"You seemed to be very distracted lately. You ain't gonna plan anything, are you?"  
Bob slowly looked up at the buff man.  
"I wouldn't dare."  
“I know this look on your face Bob. Don’t play dumb with me.”  
Snake crouched down to him.  
"You're coming more often in and out of this prison as a drunk,  
willing prostitute coming in her heydays!"  
Bob didn’t like the comparison but that was the kind of language the inmates  
were speaking here.  
"You would tell me if you'd plan to break out and take me with you, wouldn’t you?  
You wouldn’t leave me here after you managed to flee from here so many times, would you?"

Bob lifted his Hands in defense.  
"Of course not."  
Out of nowhere, Snake took Bob in a headlock.  
Bob let him. He didn’t struggle .His eyes slid down at the tattooed snake on the biceps of the brunette. The tattooed animal stared right back at him. It felt like the tattoo was mocking him for not fighting back. Although Snake was a close friend he knew that the brunette wouldn’t let anyone play games with him. 

“I do not plan anything Snake. Let’s first focus on Lassen”  
He directed the topic of conversation back in the direction of Jack.  
„And then we can forge a plan out of here.”  
Snake hesitated but Bob’s argument seemed to please him.  
Using psychology against his inmate colleagues worked out just fine for Bob.  
He didn’t need to use any strength to solve his problems.  
"Snake!”  
A sudden yell from the basketball field interrupted them.  
“Let go of your bitch and come back to the game! You two get enough alone time in the shower room!” Snake turned his head to his teammate."Coming!"  
Snake squeezed Bob’s neck a little harder, that was his way to show his affection.  
Then he let go of him, threw the towel on the bench and went back to the game.  
Bob straighten up a little and kneaded his neck. 

What a life in here.

 

It didn't take much longer until a whistling sound came through the loudspeakers on the walls. It was the sign that ended the break for the prison yard, prompting the inmates to go back to their cells.  
When Bob was back in his cell,he laid down on the cot. Hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The flatbed was uncomfortable and scratchy.  
People would eventually say that after a time you get used to it. But that wasn't true.  
Bob will never stop missing a comfy, well good smelling bed.  
He tried to sort his thoughts but for some reasons Jack didn't go out of his mind. 

Knowing that there is someone else who hated Bart as much as he did, did not please him.  
Surely Bart had more enemies and people who didn't like him, but Lassen was otherwise. Maybe it was his eyes. He had this murderous glare of a maniac, the same glare Bob must have just thinking and fantasize about how he would kill this little brat .  
But something else was eating him up.  
It was not because Jack was an asshole and treated him badly.  
It was not the reason he missed the deal with him.

Despite all of this. It was still something else. 

He sat up and went to Bart's photo on the wall.  
„Don‘t worry Bart. I will not let someone other than me kill you."  
With his index finger he circled the face of the boy.  
Before Bob could plunge further into his fantasy world,  
he was torn from his thoughts by a sneer.

„People might get the wrong idea seeing you caressing the picture of a boy so tenderly.”

Bob took his hand down. He paid no attention to Lassen.  
Instead, he only groaned in annoyance.  
„ Whatever you got in mind, Lassen“

Bob turned his back to Jack and walked back to his bed.  
"Stop right there."  
Bob stopped.  
„You will come with me.“  
Bob turned his chest back to Jack.  
"Why?"  
Jack pointed at the gap in the bars of the cell. Another annoyed groan from Bob, but he did what Lassen ordered. With the hands in the gap, Jack started to handcuff Bob.  
Particularly tight, of course. He opened the cell and released Bob.  
„Where are we going?"  
„To the interrogation room.“

Bob protested.  
„I haven't done anything. And neither do I know anything about the other inmates!"  
But Jack was silent all the way through the corridor until he opened the door to allow Bob to enter the interrogation room. "Sit down"  
Bob sat down at the table and waited for Jack to sit down opposite.  
But instead of sitting down, Jack leaned against the wall with folded arms putting his weight on his shoulder.

„Look, Robert“  
Even his name sounded bitter in the mouth of Lassen. He prefered not to be called by his first name from Jack. It felt-....wrong.  
„Whatever you’re planing, you’re not escaping on my watch.“ "I don’t know wha-" "Do you think I haven't noticed your innumerable pitiful attempts to escape?"

Rude.  
If there is one thing Bob hated more than Bart Simpson, it was people who interrupt him.  
And maybe Krusty. Yes, Krusty for sure.  
"I keep an eye on you Bobby. Specially on you.  
I'll make sure that you'll never come out of here again and be rotting as I said."

Bob gritted his teeth and cursed this cop in his mind.

“Aww, what is it? Not enjoying our alone time?”  
“Not in the slightest.”  
Jack chuckled.  
"So, how do you know Bart?"  
Bob all of sudden started a conversation.  
As much as Bob hated to chit chat with this guy, he needed to keep his interest on him.  
It could be another chance to get a ticket for freedom.  
Though, that wasn’t exactly the motivation to make a deal with him as quick as possible.

“I was his teacher.”  
“His teacher? “ The redhead raised his voice in surprise.  
"Ah yes. No wonder he has bad grades in school."  
But the words seemed to bounce off Lassen.

Even there were similarities between these two: both were former teachers, both hated Bart. There was one thing. One big thing that the two differed:

Bob had to stay in prison, and Lassen was free as a bird.  
That was the thing which had eaten Bob up for days now.  
Every day Jack had a new chance to get Bart between his fingers.  
Every day he could walk out of here and do whatever he wanted with the boy.

Oh, how much Bob hated the idea that Lassen would come one day to his cell with a big smirk on his face to tell him:  
"Well, Bobby, you've lost your chance. Little Bart Simpson is no more."

Bob felt paranoid that Jack would kill Bart first.  
He tapped nervously on the table. And then he couldn't hold it any longer.  
“Okay Lassen! "It bursted out of him.  
"Let’s get over this and make a new deal about Bart Simpson, shall we?”  
Lassen raised an eyebrow but didn’t show much interest.  
“And what exactly gave you the idea that I am still up for a deal with you?”

__

_This was weird.  
_

Lassen didn’t seem to had any interest in killing Bart anymore.  
He didn’t seem to be obsessed over this boy other than Bob. He seemed to simply enjoy torturing others. It didn't have to be exactly Bart Simpson, any other will do.  
It seemed that living out his sadistic streak in prison let him forget the anger over Bart.  
The chains of handcuffs rustled as Bob put one hand over the other.  
Then he leaned forward.  
“Because I know that you want to see this boy just as dead as I want."  
His voice turned dark and seductive.  
"Bart Simpson shall suffer.”

Bob bluffed, with success.  
Jacks eyes started to grew a little wider only by hearing the boys name.  
Now this was interesting.  
It seems that Bob could inflame Jacks rage against the blonde boy once again.  
Bob hated it to admit, but without Lassens help, he probably would’t come out of here.  
Not as long as Lassen was in command. 

So the options were either to get rid of Lassen or teaming up with him.  
And right now, teaming up felt like a more easy way to ride on with.  
“Once you got me out of here, we take turns with gutting this boy out.”  
Bob continued and solidified his offer.  
"So.Deal?”  
“Just one more thing.”  
As Jack hesitated ,Bob tried to avoid gritting his teeth again.

„What is it?“  
„You’ll owe me a favour in return whenver I’ll bring you out of here."

And all of a sudden option one, killing Lassen right away with his bare hands sounded much more delightful than teaming up with him.  
Bob should have known that Jack wouldn't simply let things rest after he dumped him the first time. If only he had struck at the first proposal.

He crossed his arms, and clicked his tongue.  
„Oh I wonder, what that would be?”

Jack wasn‘t impressed by Bob's sarcasm.  
„I’ll come back to this another time.“  
Bob rolled his eyes. This uncertainty, it could be practically anything.  
But revenge was so close. Bob smelled it already. He could practicular taste the blood of the blonde boy ,whom he cursed for years already, on his lips.  
It would be for sure the fastest way to get out of here.  
To end this chapter he was chained with with Bart. Once and for all. 

Bob let out a heavy breath and nodded.  
„Fine, deal.“  
„Excellent.“  
Bob couldn' t stand the satisfied look in the cops face.  
“I'll give you one night.”  
"How are you going to get me out unnoticed?"  
Jack grinned.  
"Just leave that to me"  
So this was the deal:  
Getting out for one night, cutting barts throat open and getting back to prison. 

It wasn’t the ideal deal. Bob of course wished to get out of prison permanently,  
but at least he would get his revenge.  
It was something he valued more than freedom for his flesh and bones.

Freedom for his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short but the next one will be longer again!

The dull thudding of hammers filled the room. The sound of drilling machines deafed the ears.  
The inmates wore bored faces while repairing things as lamps, chairs and other material in the workshop.  
'A merciful gesture', as the Mayor says. 'Something that distract the inmates from boredom and gives them a meaningful task to do' he says.  
Bob would rather prefer other things for destraction, such as a bibliothek or a place for education.  
After the repair of the ware, they would be sold in a second hand shop.  
Using the inmates for unpaid work, only to make money with them, wasn't exactly a merciful gesture in Bob's eyes.  
  
But at least there was something to do. Some variety in the monotonous routine of the inmates.  
In prison, there was not much to do expect doing sports on the yard, sitting in the cafeteria and well, to potter on trash, making it less trashy.  
It was allowed to write letters, but  whom should Bob write to? He wasn't in contact with his family, partly because they showed no interest in him.  
He didn't receive any letters from outside either. At all. It was somehow sad. Although Bob was well known,  
among other things because he was a teacher and had many students, all of his former colleagues and the time as a 'Child Star' on TV.  
Not even a fan wrote him a letter. Nothing.  
  
Paradoxically, Bob sometimes wrote to Bart. No love letters like the other inmates did to their loved ones.  
No "I feel like shit, bring some cigaretts" letters to any ex criminals. No thoughtful and caring letters to the family.  
No apologizing letters to the victims. No. Bob wrote threatening letters. Written with his own blood.  
And most of them passed the control. At some point the letters became bloodier and even soaked the envelope.  
That was the time were the cops gave up on checking any letters from him. They were grossed out and didn't want to touch any of Bob's letters anymore.  
When they once asked Bob why he wrote with blood, he replied drily:  
"Donating blood is healthy".  
Since then they had left Bob alone. They simply stamped him crazy. After all, he was already in the rubber cell more than one time.  
  
Bob's eyes slid down to the drill he held in his hand.  
Maybe he would enjoy this more if he had a strive for it.  
The red-haired man was not gifted with craftsmanship, he had other qualities.  
Snake as opposed to, could make anything from a piece of wood and a few screws.  
The only thing Bob was knowledgable about, when it came to crafting things, were explosives.  
"You can't happen to make nitroglycerine from a piece of wood, can you?"  
  
Snake who sat beside his cellmate, already workig on his lamp, laughed.  
"So, you're planning an outburst after all!"  
  
"No. Just want to pass the time. Although...we could make some bombs out of soap."  
The ex-clown rubbed his forefinger under his chin.  
  
"Really? This works?"  
  
"It does. But it's not so easy."  
  
The brunette started to think.  
"What do we call them then? Bob Bombs? Or wait no! Boboms!  
Yeah thats kinda cute. I want to call you like this from now on.  
Boboms. Hey Bobo Boboms! "  
  
Bob rolled his eyes. "Very funny".  
  
Snake shruged. "Hey, just passing time! :D "  
  
A guard came by, ending the conversation between them.  
"Hey you two cardboard noses! I can not see a single finished lamp here!"  
With a momentum, the guard smashed both lamps from Bob and Snake away. "Fix that! Quickly!"  
Reluctantly they crouched down to pick up the lamps with all the parts that had spread on the floor.  
They exchanged looks of utter loathing for the prison gaurd while sliding on their knees.  
Both sat back at the wooden table making some grumbling noises and decided it was for the better, not to talk to each other anymore until they return to their cell.  
  
Bob grabbed the drill again and started to play with it by pushing and letting go of the engine button, instead of actuallay repairing the lamp.  
_This takes too long._  
_This takes way too long._  
When will Jack come so he could finally get away from this place?  
After all, he didn’t know how much time has passed since he and Jack made the deal.  
In prison it’s hard to tell if days or weeks were passing by. Most of the inmates lose the sense of time completely after some weeks in prison.  
At first he had high hopes making a deal with the cop, but the disillusion came early when he realized that he had to be patient. And now Bob was just annoyed.  
  
Softly, he confirmed the power button and watched the bolt turning slowly.  
  
He wasn't even sure if Jack meant it seriously. Maybe he only played with him? Maybe Jack tricked him to have something in his hand, so he could use it against him.  
This waiting made him go mental.  
  
Then he cramped his finger and depressed the power button fully.  
The drill's iron stinging made a loud shrilling sound while it twisted on full power.  
Bob's eyes followed the revolutions as if in hypnosis.  
He imagined using the drill to remove the grates from the windows. Guards would come through the noise.  
He would ram the drill into the guard's leg. A second guard would come and pull the gun, but before he the shoot,  
Bob would kick the wooden table at him. He would raise his hand and dash the drill with all his strength in his face.  
The skin would burst, the flesh would come off and fly with a sweep on the wall, painting it red.  
While Bob would pull the drill out of the cops face,  
a rag made of skin would still twist slowly on the nib of the bolt.  
  
The drill suddenly stopped in Bob's hand which torn him from his mind world.  
Two more times he tried bringing the drill back into life by impatiently pressing the handle.  
But nothing happened except for the nervous clicking sound from the button.  
  
"Don't try it too hard, Terwilliger. No matter how many times you'll try, without electricity the drill won't work."  
The cop patted on his shoulder,even when it wasn't allowed to touch the inmates in any form, then crouching down to him. "You're tripping on something, Alice."  
Bob's mouth corner twitched but he remain calm. He didn't like that cop. Gus was his name.  
He was an asshole and stupid as bread with a neanderthalic sounding "he-he" laugh at almost every end of the sentence he made.  
  
"Off to the cells with you! We're done for today!"  
The cop shouted, still being near Bob.  
The red haired jerked down and let out an unpleased gargle sound.  
He wished his train of thoughts would turn into reality and Gus would just drop dead.  
The cellmates just shake the behavoir of the cops off and returned to their cells. There was no sense in rebelling.  
  
At night the hallways were filled with silence.  
Usually there were always two prison guards who walked up and down the corridors to ensure law and order.  
But this night there were footsteps of only one person echoing through the cold concrete corridors. Jack Lassen's shift just has started.  
He was pacing his usual route on the hallway.  
Whenever there was a face Jack didn't like, he smacked the baton on the iron bars, only to make them jolt awake from sleep.  
 "Had a bad dream? Glad I could help you out, sweetie."  
Sleep deprivation was one of the means of pressure that he used against the inmates.  
  
Sometimes he walked a little closer to the jail cells, letting the baton bumb on the iron bars, making annoying clanking noises while walking down the corridor, just for fun.  
But this night, Jack didn't bother any of the inmates. Therefore most of them felt in a deep exhausted sleep. Finally sleep.    
Bob was still awake, of course he was.  
He couldn't sleep a wink, still waiting for Jack to come and take him out of here.  
Everytime Jack walked past his cell, Bob's eyes followed him. But neither of them said a word. Bob's eyes wandered back to Snake, who slept on the cot.  
He stepped to the bars and wrapped his hands around, the moment he heard Jack approaching again.  
„Hey. Lassen!"  He hissed as quiet as he could through his teeth.  
"For how much longer?"  
  
Jack stopped and leaned his face closer to Bob.  
"Patience."  
  
Bob had already feared that Jack would say that.  
"Where is the other guard?"  
  
"Fallen out."  
  
"Ah yes, I see." Bob lowered his eyelids in arrogance and looked down to his fingers which he started to fiddle.  
"Or nobody wants to work with you."  
  
"Careful."  
  
"The deal is already sealed. I have nothing to fear. A deal is a deal."  
  
Jack raised an eyebrow in indifference.  
"Well as you know, corrupt cops LOVE to break their promises."  
He peeked past Bob as something in the back of the corner began to move.  
"Oh, and Robert?  
It seems there are too many clowns for one car."  
  
_Is he playing on words?_ At this point Bob asked himself how much Lassen actually knows about him.  
Probably everything. He assums he can look trough the police files, even Bob is sure Lassen is not authorized to do that. Not in his position as prison guard.  
But Lassen seemed to do whatever he wants anyway.  
  
Bob stared at Jack, waiting for what he expected from him.  
The cops head tilted a bit to the side, looking now to Snake who started to make some movements to get up from the cot.  
His eyes stared back at Bob's.  
  
"Do something... stupid."    
      
The red haired man's eyes narrowed in conufsion. _What does that mean?_  
That he should get rid of Snake? Killing him? Jacks sly grin only reinforced Bob's suspicion.

  
  
_Do something stupid._  
_Great._  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
